Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

To Find The Missing Lifeline	By : EvilConcubine Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 37355 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 12
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12. So Close, But Too Far Away

     Harry and Ginny entered the Great Hall together. They were quite early and not many students were there to have their breakfast. Even the professors weren't there yet. Harry suddenly saw that most people were moving to the Slytherin's table and some even looked concerned. He came closer, too, and felt numb with terror. Draco was lying on the floor deathly pale. Some Slytherin boy cast 'Rennervate', but it didn't work. Harry's heart sank. He ran to the blond and his legs almost gave way. He kneeled beside him to check his breath. To his relieve, Draco was breathing. Ignoring plenty of surprised eyes and something that Ginny was saying to him (he couldn't hear her or anyone else), he lifted the blond in his arms carefully and carried him to the infirmary. He was beside himself with worry, and he hardly felt the weight of Draco's body in his arms, though his knees were weak. 'What if it's a heart attack? Or maybe someone has hurt him with a curse or something? What if he's dying?!' Harry worked up his fears even more, and it induced him to walk faster. He entered the hospital wing and carefully laid Draco on the first bed that came across. He loosened the blonde's tie, undid two top buttons of his shirt and took his shoes off.

"Madam Pomfrey!" he yelled. Draco began to stir. He opened his eyes, but obviously couldn't focus on anything. The mediwitch appeared quickly.

"Mr Potter? What happened?" she asked with concern.

"Draco... fell..." Harry stuttered. Meanwhile, Draco almost regained his senses. He started to panic, seeing Madam Pomfrey and Harry.

"No..." he whispered and shook his head.

"It's all right, Mr Malfoy," the mediwitch hushed him and approached.

"No! Make him leave!" Draco screamed. He wasn't angry, he was in panic that his secret was about to unravel and in Harry's presence! "Get out! Please... Please, make him leave..." he moaned desperately. Harry was stunned. He knew he deserved this and far worse, but he'd expected hatred or, at least, anger. And, instead, Draco was scared out of his mind.

"Mr Potter, please, leave us," the woman said quietly.

"Yes, right..." Harry mumbled and walked away very puzzled with Draco's reaction, and still concerned about his health.

"He's left," the mediwitch said softly. "Now I have to examine you to find out what happened."

"No," he said and shook his head again. Despite of his painful weakness, he tried to get up. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not. You're very pale and you look very ill," she insisted.

"I'm all right, I assure you. And I have to go. I have lessons."

"I can't let you go like this. Please, behave yourself, Mr Malfoy, and let me cast some diagnostic spells on you."

"No!" he almost cried out and finally managed to get up. He felt dizzy and exhausted, but tried his best to make 'a healthy look' on his face.

"Mr Malfoy!" she frowned and pointed her wand at him. He started to back away with the pleading eyes, shaking his head 'no' and holding his trembling hands in front of himself as if it could protect him. She wasn't angry anymore, seeing that something was seriously wrong. His whole appearance begged her not to cast the spell that would let her know about his delicate condition.

"No, please... Don't," he whispered. The scene looked almost comical as he kept pleading and moving backwards slowly, and the woman was following him tentatively, without coming too close, though still pointing her wand at him and trying to deal with the distressed youth. In her large practice she had never seen anything like this. She didn't dare to ignore him, just casting the necessary spells against his will, realising that the boy would just go off into hysterics if she tried anything. She attempted to persuade him in a friendly way:

"Please, calm down. Trust me. If you have something to hide, I won't let anyone else know, I promise. I can see that you're hiding something. You can trust me no matter what it is. I'm not here to hurt you, blame you or judge you. I won't examine you without your permission, but I want you to tell me what happened to you, so I could help," the woman tried to reach out to his mind and lowered her wand to subdue his nervousness. He gave her a dubious look and stopped, weighing her words in his mind. The mediwitch stopped too and gave him time to decide, watching him carefully and realising that he was having an inner conflict. Pomfrey wondered if he was just scared to say that he was hurt by the other students and threatened, so he would keep silence about it. She noticed the way he pressed his hand to his stomach for a few moments in some protective way. It was something he had done unconsciously. She wondered if he was in pain, however, she wasn't noticing any obvious signs.

     Draco didn't want to tell anyone else about his pregnancy, but Severus for many days had been trying to convince him to consult a healer and he mentioned Pomfrey in the first place, giving the sensible arguments that she was a competent and trustworthy mediwitch. And she also was right there in the castle, so he wouldn't have to go anywhere, searching for a good healer, who wouldn't bother about Draco's reputation, and someone without prejudices, too. It also was risky. The last thing he wanted was trusting someone, who would sell his secret to the reporters. He winced, remembering Skeeter and her damned article about him.

     He pressed his palm to his closed eyes. All those thoughts aggravated his dizziness. He was afraid of another fainting fit. He had to lie down. Madam Pomfrey came closer to him slowly, not to startle him, took him by the arm and led him to the nearest bed. She helped him to lie down and summoned a chair to sit next to him.

"I... fainted, because I'm pregnant," he finally confessed after several minutes of silence. His voice was very quiet and he was waiting for her reaction. Actually, he was waiting for some negative reaction, but he wasn't looking at her, so he couldn't tell if she was disgusted with him or not. Did she consider him some kind of a freak now? His quick glance at her made him see that she wasn't disgusted at all. Her eyes looked surprised and interested. At first the mediwitch didn't believe him, but then she decided that there was no point for him to say such things as a joke. He was serious, tense and still a little scared.

"You do want to know, how and why, of course," he continued. "Lucius... My own father did this to me to present me to the Dark Lord and he... He wanted me to be the one to give birth to the Dark Lord's bastard, so he could have had a new body for himself," he almost spat with disgust, but forced himself to calm down. "Fortunately for me, his idea failed. I didn't know anything about it. I had no idea. He was giving me some potions without me knowing and... I found out recently when I've actually got pregnant." This was all the explanations he was willing to give. The mediwitch looked at him with sympathy.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"I have morning sickness. Sometimes I can't even look at the food in the morning. Lately I've been feeling a little better, because I've started to take a potion to ease these symptoms, except for the fact that I've just been brought to you after another fainting fit. I've fainted three or four times already. I think I need more rest, but that's probably because I couldn't eat properly for some time and it has weakened me," he mumbled tiredly, not very eager to answer the questions.

"How long have you been pregnant?"

"I'm not sure. More than three months, I believe."

"Will you let me examine you?"

"All right," he sighed.

"Just make yourself comfortable and lie still for a little while. I won't bother you at all," Madam Pomfrey promised. She cast a few spells on him and received the evidence that he was indeed pregnant. After that she cast several more to gain the information about his health and the health of the foetus. She sat down on the chair again once she'd finished.

"You've been with child for about fifteen weeks already. Today is the twenty-first of April. Let's see..." the mediwitch became thoughtful for several moments. "You conceived around the seventh of January," she concluded. "As far as I understand, you're going to keep the child."

"How can you tell?"

"I can see," she smiled slightly.

"Yes," he answered and frowned at himself, because he sounded uncertain. He still was very concerned about carrying a child, giving birth, possible complications, and he still couldn't cope with the very thought that it was happening to him at all. It was still hard to accept even if the decision had been made.

"And you are aware of the risks," she said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes, I know it's going to be a hard time for my weak health," Draco mumbled.

"It's true. It's hard to tell how your body is going to adjust to pregnancy. For now it looks quite fine. Even your pelvic bones have changed a little. But your condition already makes your heart work harder, so you have to be careful. I know you have some problems."

"I'm taking potions. Severus has replaced them with less harmful for a child."

"And yet, don't overstrain yourself. Do you have anything else to tell me?"

"I feel pressure on my bladder. It's quite annoying to visit the lavatory so often," he confessed, looking gloomy.

"It's going to change soon. Your uterus will shift up."

"How can you be sure? I'm not a woman and my situation can differ from what you're used to see."

"That's right, but for now it doesn't look different to me," the mediwitch assured. She brought him some potion.

"What is it?" Draco asked, looking at the vial in her hand.

"It will ease your dizziness. You'll feel better," she replied and poured the potion into a measure spoon. He took it and winced at the bitter taste.

"I can't help but ask you about the other father of your child. Does he know?" she asked.

"No. And I'm not going to tell him anything," he frowned, hoping that she wouldn't guess who 'the other father' was after Harry had brought him into the hospital wing himself and after Draco had panicked in front of him. 'And it's none of your concern, by the way,' he thought, irritated with the uncomfortable question.

"Don't get me wrong; I'm only asking, because you may need some support," Pomfrey explained, trying to make him understand that she wasn't asking out of her nosiness.

"I don't need any support. I'm not a child, who needs to be held by the hand. My godfather is helpful enough, and that's all I need."

"Will you let me help you, too? I'm not only capable of healing bruises and broken bones, you know."

"I would be grateful if you helped me," he said. Pomfrey, obviously, was very interested in his condition. It wasn't something usual after all. She felt privileged that she was trusted with something like this, not to mention that she simply wanted to help the youth.

"I'll try my best," she smiled.

"But I'm going to a take a Wizard's Oath from you. I want to make sure you'll keep my condition secret no matter what, even if my life would depend on telling anyone else. Don't do it without my permission. Don't do anything 'for my own good' without telling me first," the blond said gravely.

"All right," she sighed, understanding that she really had no choice and the youth wouldn't trust her otherwise. So she gave an oath.

"I'm going to find more information about male pregnancy," she said. "And don't worry, your secret is safe with me. Now I want you to have some rest. I release you from today's lessons. And I also want you to stop worrying. It won't do you any good. Now it's not only yourself for you to take care of."

"Yes, I'm aware of this," he nearly frowned. "What about the child? I was taking some harmful potions that could have affected the child too," he said carefully.

"I hope you're not taking them anymore?"

"Of course, not," Draco mumbled with a scowl.

"Everything looks fine with your baby," she soothed him.

"Good... Can I have a rest in my room?"

"Yes. Do you need help to get there?" the mediwitch offered.

"No. I already feel better, thank you."

"All right then. Go. And don't be shy to come here any time, even if you don't find it important, even if you just need to talk. I'll see you later."

"Thank you," he said again. She helped him to get up. Draco put his shoes on and left. Indeed, he felt better and wasn't reeling anymore.

     After taking a bath he decided to lie down as he had been recommended, but his attention was drawn by the reflection of his naked body in the mirror. Only now he noticed that his belly had already started to grow. It was hardly noticeable yet, however. He placed his hand on it.

"How am I going to bear you? I'm such a wreck..." he sighed.

     The blond got dressed into his pyjamas and lay down into bed. He took the photographs of his mother from the bedside table and started to look through them. He had only taken five from the Manor, and he enjoyed watching them. There was the one where Narcissa was seventeen years old. It was her last day at school and she looked like a princess; she looked happy even with all her usual restraint she'd always showed in public. With Draco she'd been perceptibly softer. But his favourite picture was the one where she was holding little Draco in her arms. He was only several months old. With one hand she was holding the back of his head gently, telling him something, and he was holding the strand of her hair in his tiny hand, listening to her. She looked the most beautiful on this picture. He sighed, putting the pictures back on the bedside table and touched his abdomen again. 'The seventh of January... Did that happen when I..? No, she said that I conceived around the seventh of January. However, what difference does it make?' he thought. But his body reacted at the memory. His hand moved lower and pulled the forming erection out of the silk pants of his pyjamas. He began to stroke himself gently. It had been a long since his body felt any pleasure at all. The memory was arousing...

     Putting things in order, Draco was standing at his desk when Harry approached him from behind and wrapped his arms around him. He kissed the blonde's neck, making him gasp gently and putting him off his occupation. The Gryffindor pulled the hem of Draco's shirt out of his trousers and unbuttoned them. His hand travelled down the blonde's boxers, touching the bare flesh and pulling it up softly, while the other arm was still wrapped around his waist. The Slytherin moaned, his knees pressed together, one hand leaned on the table for support and he pressed his rear to Harry's groin, making the Gryffindor echo his moan. Draco's other hand moved back and sneaked down into Harry's boxers, finding him hot and hard. The brunet made it easier for him, unbuttoning and unzipping his own trousers to make enough space for Draco's hand that was stroking him. Equally hard, Draco enjoyed every touch, surrendering himself to the sensations... The Gryffindor's unoccupied hand worked its way down his boxers from behind and the blond became aware of the well-lubricated finger, teasing his entrance. Draco stood rigid in pleasant anticipation. He bit his lip slightly and closed his eyes. Gently squeezing the blonde's member, Harry pushed his finger inside. Loud whine escaped Draco, his knees bent a little and his back arched. The finger was moving and slightly curling inside, touching the inner walls of the hot channel, and Draco's erection was twitching and throbbing in Harry's hand. And when he was ready to come, the caress suddenly stopped, leaving the overexcited body unbearably hollow. Harry quickly took the Slytherin's and his own trousers off. The blond bent forward, so his head and chest were resting on the desk.

     He didn't have to wait; Harry entered him slowly, burying himself deep inside, and Draco felt the way Harry's lower abs tensed against his bottom. Their remaining clothes were in complete disorder. Draco's opened shirt was halfway down, so the collar was somewhere on the middle of his back, leaving his shoulders naked. His loosened tie was turned aside and lay on his shoulder blade. His boxers were around his knees. Harry was no better, but neither of them cared. Moaning and heaving, the Gryffindor was soon moving fast and hard, making Draco whine, pant and clench the sides of the desk with his hands. Only a couple of minutes later they both came hard: Draco - on the floor and Harry deep inside of him. The blond was in a blissful languor, still on the desk, when his lover slid off of him...

     'No!' he thought furiously, roughly returning himself into reality. It hurt him to remember the things, even the good things, but the things that had been lost forever and it was a strong turn off for him. He hit the pillow in frustration and pulled his pants up, refusing to continue. His erection was fading away without further stimulation.

     It seemed so odd to have a part of Harry inside, his flesh and blood, and to know that he would never have him close again. He had to stop tormenting himself. It was unbearable. Why the hell Harry had had to be the one who had brought Draco into the infirmary today (out of pity, obviously)? Certainly, it was another mockery of his destiny. Fortunately for him, he'd fallen asleep soon enough.

     It was the end of the lessons for this day. Finding no peace after the morning incident, Harry entered the Potions classroom when Snape had dismissed the students from the second year. Feeling uncomfortable, he approached Snape's desk. The black eyes were studying him for a moment.

"What brings you here, Mr Potter?" the man asked. Harry couldn't help, but feel amused; this man had saved his life many times, had risked his own life for him (for years!), but he was still making Harry's surname sound as some kind of an obscenity.

"Excuse me, professor. I just wanted to ask if Draco was all right," the Gryffindor said quietly.

"I do not discuss my godson's health with strangers," Severus replied impassively.

"But... Please, I need to know." Harry lowered his eyes.

"He's fine now. But I'm not willing to give you any more information about things that are none of your concern."

"I know..."

"Harry!" Ginny entered the classroom, interrupting whatever he'd intended to say. Or, probably, it was for the best, because, in fact, he didn't know what else he could say. "There you are. I was looking for you everywhere. The practice has already begun."

"Yes, sure..." he said. He'd nearly forgotten about the Quidditch practice. Severus was watching him carefully as the Gryffindor was leaving the classroom, and narrowed his eyes. Something felt wrong about Potter. But when anything, just anything, had been right about Potter?

     When everyone in his dormitory was asleep, Harry couldn't stop thinking about what had happened to Draco in the morning. He worried about the blond and the feeling of guilt didn't let him go. His mind was replaying the images of Draco, lying on the floor, looking dead; the way Harry had been carrying his unconscious body, thinking that the Slytherin had been dying in his arms, the way Draco had been screaming in the hospital wing later, demanding to make Harry leave... The more he was thinking, the more his head hurt. In the morning his head was splitting. It felt like a metal ring around his head that was about to crush it. Every sound caused pain. Ron helped him to get to the infirmary, because Harry could hardly walk, and all his concerned friends followed. Pomfrey gave him a pain-relieving potion after scanning him, and insisted that it was necessary for him to stay in bed for some time and sleep, since the pain could be a result of the sleepless night. His friends were worried and Harry started to get angry. The attention was strangulating. 'Thank God, there's no Molly Weasley here!'

"Enough! I want to have some rest, if you don't mind!" he growled so loud that everyone flinched, including himself, because his head responded with terrible pain.

"I completely agree. Stop troubling my patient," Pomfrey frowned. Finally Harry was left alone.

     He's entering the Great Hall. The place looks almost drained of the colour and life. And it's empty. His eyes stop on the motionless body, lying on the floor next to the table. He comes closer and kneels. He doesn't have to check, - the blond is dead and his lifeless eyes are opened, directed somewhere into the void that has swallowed his soul some time ago; stolen it to lead it to its final destination or, probably, destroyed it. His skin and clothes are covered with stains of blood, resembling the red, brutally tattered net which enmeshes his body. The contrast of the ashen skin with the red blood is shocking.

"Draco..." Harry cups the pale face with his trembling hands, refusing to believe that the life has abandoned the blond irretrievably. He's already far away, too far away... "Draco, please, no. Please... I'm sorry!" Harry's voice is reverberating in his own ears, filling his head with pain.

     He woke up with a gasp. Realizing that he'd just seen a nightmare, he relaxed and turned on his other side. He felt Ginny's hand, stroking his hair soothingly and easing some of his pain. He knew her touch; it was always soothing. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep again.

     The very next day their eyes accidentally met in Potions. Draco looked unwell and Harry couldn't ignore it. It was just a moment, but the blond thought he nearly died. He seemed calm and indifferent outwardly, but on the inside he felt as if his own emotions had shredded him into pieces. And there was the sickness... Dizzy and off-balanced he leaned his shoulder against the wall for support. The jar with star anise fruits slipped out of his hands and shattered, hitting the floor. The star-shaped brownish fruits scattered about the floor along with the broken glass. Other students turned their faces to him, attracted by the noise, and Harry got up with the worried look. Severus approached Draco immediately.

"I feel ill," the boy whispered to him.

"Go have some fresh air and return when you feel better," the man said, quietly enough, so only his godson could hear. The blond was about to clean the mess he'd created, but Severus frowned. "Go. I'll take care of it."

     Draco was very thankful for this, because he started to feel the aggravating nausea. 'Oh, please, don't do this to me now,' he thought, pressing a hand to abdomen and quickly leaving the classroom.

     Along with the potion to ease his morning sickness Draco began to use an essential oil of mint. It was very helpful when he felt ill because of food or smells. He just applied several drops on his handkerchief, brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply until the nausea abated. He always had the vial in his pocket. Sometimes he even took one drop of it on his tongue and it made him feel better. But very soon he stopped needing it, because the sickness subsided gradually, and it was such a relief. Only the somnolence sometimes bothered him. There were days when he tried his best to focus, but his head felt like it was hardly holding on his neck, so he had to prop it up with his hand, leaning his elbow on the desk. He was forcing himself to listen and to write down the lectures, but his beautiful handwriting time and again turned into something like the electrocardiography of the dying man (if he knew that such things existed in the Muggle World, he would have found the comparison very suitable). Once he even fell asleep when he was practicing the potion-brewing with Severus. The man had a strong feeling of déjà vu. He had already seen this head resting on his desk in deep sleep while he'd been brewing. The only difference was that his prince had been much smaller back then and that scene had taken place in his own house.

     However, the frequent drowsiness wasn't an excuse for Draco to idle about. The N.E.W.T.s were not far off already, and he intended to pass them no matter what, so, despite of his state, he was studying. Most people already knew that he was assiduous and gifted in most subjects. In past years there were people that had used to think that Lucius had been 'buying' Draco's good marks, but they'd been wrong. Although, he didn't care about their opinion and didn't have to prove them anything, it was important for his self-appraisal. Meanwhile, the rumour had it that he was seriously ill, and the illness was fatal. They even said that he wouldn't live till the end of the school year. Not that people were discussing it a lot, but Draco overheard it in the library and had a strong wish to strangle the one who had set the ridiculous rumour afloat. On the other hand, he gave it up as lost and decided to ignore it as something that wasn't worth his attention.

     At least, there was something unexpected that made Draco's mood better in the chain of the days that felt boring and were all the same, - he received a letter:

'Hello, Draco!

     I've heard about your return at Hogwarts. I myself decided to go to Durmstrang, as far as possible from all the mess. I thought it would be hard for me, because I didn't know anyone here, but I've made friends with two boys from my year, so it's not really that bad. I was planning to write you sooner, but couldn't bring myself to do it. Maybe I just didn't want to be a reminder of what happened to you. I saw Skeeter's article and I know about the way The Ministry treats you because of your surname. I'm glad you have professor Snape by your side. Give him my regards.

     When I found out about what they did to you, I ran away. My relative, who wasn't involved into this Death Eaters' story, sheltered me in the other country. Every day I expected them to come for me, but it never happened. I thought you were dead, I was told you were, and when I saw that article, I didn't know if I should cry or laugh. I hope you feel better now and I also hope you can speak again.

     I believe it's all hard for you. I just want you to know, if you need a friend, you have one. After all, you're a prince, no matter what they say, and I'm still your retinue, and a friend, I hope.

Best wishes,

Gregory Goyle.'

     At first, Draco couldn't help, but smile, but then he started to doubt. Was it some kind of a trap? He was so tired of disappointments... However, what harm would it do if he just wrote back? He wasn't going to write about his secrets anyway. Goyle's owl was sitting on his desk while he was thinking over the reply. The bird was watching Viperion with some interest, but then it got bored and dozed off, tired of waiting.

     'Hello, Gregory!

     You have no idea how inspirational your letter was. I would send you a huge sack of biscuits and cakes, and, I swear, I will, just say a word if you still have a predilection for such things.

     I'm glad that you're doing well. I'm also relieved to know that you escaped, remained human and didn't share my fate. At least, my example was edifying to make you think about yourself.

     I wish I could write you that I'm fine, but I'm not. Too bad for me, you're in Durmstrang. I wish you were here with me this year, but you've made the right decision to stay away. I'm an outcast here, and if not Severus and some circumstances, I'm sure I would have already been lynched. This school year has been extremely arduous. The trust was something that really failed me. You may call me paranoid, but I was examining your letter, for the purpose of revealing curses or poisons, for no less than ten minutes before reading it. What of my muteness, it has passed, fortunately.

    I'm sorry that I can't write you more, but I hope you'll write back as soon as you can, and give me a detailed account of the way your life has changed. I want to learn more about Durmstrang, local people, including your friends; and especially about you. I bet you've changed a lot.

     Without wishing to be a whiner, I'm not all right, Gregory.

     Sincerely,

     Draco.'

     The blond tied his letter to the owl's leg, waking the bird up in the process, and let it go. If all of it wasn't a trap, it would be such a relief.
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To Find The Missing Lifeline